


A Life of Comfort

by hato



Category: Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hato/pseuds/hato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is very familiar with comfort and consolation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Life of Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : This is a work of whimsy, a daydream, pure fiction. The real people depicted within simply had the misfortune of catching my fancy. 
> 
>  
> 
> **A/N** : Just something that popped into my head and wouldn't go away. Also, this was not intended as slash, but it could easily be read that way if you wish to do so ;)

Phil remembers his mum doing this for him when he was small.

 

Remembers the dark comfort surrounding him as she pulled him close. The smell of her perfume and the warmth of her jumper against his face. Smoothing his head with her hand, fingers ruffling his hair. Shushing his sniffles. Humming quietly. Rocking him back and forth and promising that everything will be just fine, don’t worry, it will all work out, love.  

 

Phil remembers the last time he did this for someone at uni.

 

Remembers the dull blast of music and laughing outside the closed door. Stink of stale cigarette smoke and spilled alcohol and fresh vomit. Messy ginger waves under his chin. Doesn’t remember her name. Or how she came to be in his room. Small body awkwardly tucked against his as he pats her back and wonders where the hell her friends are and assures her that everything is okay, he won’t tell anyone, it will all work out, sweetheart.

 

Phil remembers. And pulls Dan in close.

  
Sunlight streaming in through the balcony doors.  Scent of soap and laundry detergent and coffee. Sound of street traffic and hitching breaths.  Taller body slightly hunched over, face buried against his neck, shaking.  His fingers gently combing through dark shaggy hair.  Light rasp of stubble on his jaw. Wet spot spreading across his shoulder. Lost. Vulnerable. Closing his eyes and wishing he could fix this and swearing that everything will be alright, things will get better, it will all work out, little llama.

 

_the end_

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks!!!


End file.
